


Say Your Affirmations (and Love Will Come to You)

by Loveallthatjazz



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Shrek Fusion, Background Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shrek AU, Shrek the Musical AU, as in the inspiration is clearly coming from musical and movies, it might sound a little crazy but work with me here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-11 07:05:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15310047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveallthatjazz/pseuds/Loveallthatjazz
Summary: Prince Lance has spent the last 23 years trapped in a tower with nothing but an ice-breathing dragon and his own thoughts as company, eagerly awaiting the day his true love will rescue him from the curse plaguing him since infancy. Little does he know, his constant mantra that "he knows it's today" will hold some truth sooner than he expects.Keith is a Galra hybrid trying to live his life alone in his shack whilst avoiding all of humanity - until the neighboring city decides to dump their fairy tale population in his front yard. With his (unwelcome?) traveling companion, Hunk, Keith must head out on the fetch-quest of a lifetime to regain his solitude - not knowing he was about to gain so much more.





	1. Rules and Strictures

Once upon a time, there existed Altea, ruling city and palace of the region of Far Far Away, the grandest kingdom of the fairytale realms, known for it’s kind, diplomatic people, and gorgeous Varadero Beaches.

Once upon a time, a lovely prince was born, the fourth in line after his older brothers and sister. He was quickly dubbed Prince Lance, and that was that. 

Once upon a time, it was proven it can never be that simple for royalty. because once upon a time, Lance’s fairy godmother arrived and Haggar decided it was time for a break from the usual ailments that befall princes and princesses: eternal slumber, hunts for shoe-less commoners, and the like.  She placed an enchantment, one far more fear-inducing than those his siblings had faced, and, once finished, presented her work to the King and Queen.

The monarchs did their best to cope with their son’s curse; however, they ultimately decided it was safer not only for himself, but for the entire family, if Lance was sent to live outside of Far Far Away.

That was Day 23.

The prince’s enchantment could only be broken by true love’s kiss. For his own safekeeping, he was locked away in a castle guarded by a ferocious ice-breathing dragon. Many of the kingdom’s bravest knights attempted to free Prince Lance from his imprisonment, but none prevailed.

He had no choice but to wait in the highest room of the tallest tower until his true love arrived.

* * *

Lance let out a small sigh as he drew another straight line into the wall behind the curtains.

_ 3,285. _

The daily tradition began thanks to the very small health staff that stayed with the prince until he was five years old. Every sunrise, his nurse whisked open the shades, wished him another, and rather grumpy, good morning, and added a clean streak of ink next to the windowsill. 

Back when Lance awoke on his fifth birthday, it was to the sight and sound of his nurse shoving her few belongings into a bag and locking the door on her way out. He noticed she forgot to mark their improvised calendar, and he would hate for her to accidentally get behind, so the boy took up the mantle. Sometimes Lance would wonder if she'd been keeping up with the last four years. And when she'd be back. And if she’d be back.

But he had plenty of ways to pass the time. His room was a large suite stuffed with toys, instruments, art supplies, and more! And there was always watching Allura fly from the view of his window.

The inspiration behind Lance’s chose name for his icey guard came from a bedtime story he had heard a few years back, a princess from the stars, to be exact. She would fly laps above and around the five spires of the castle and breathe frost to re-enforce the frozen spikes filling the surrounding trenches.

Allura was, by far, the most beautiful dragon Lance had ever seen (ignoring that she was the  _ only _ dragon he’d ever seen). There were not many of this magical might remaining, so he took some pride in knowing that he was worthy of her wrath. Only once or twice did she ever stay close long enough for Lance to get a detailed look at his winged princess of the skies. Her scales were a shimmering pattern of white and blue, and there were pink, crescent-shaped markings under each of her eyes. One of those eyes became pressed right up against his window as Allura hung onto the tower by her silver claws, allowing him to learn that they were bright blue with pink pupils, of all things. He would’ve remembered to be polite and compliment her appearance if he hadn’t been so convinced at the time that she was about to eat him.

Lance’s favorite way to pass the time was reading, especially the chapters upon chapters of fairy tales coating his bookshelves. Day 3,285’s story was about Rapunzel.  He read it before, but, hey, sometimes you just have to open to a random chapter and work with what you’ve got. There had always been some sort of kinship between Lance and the long-haired princess: trapped in a tower thanks to some nosey witch, nothing but a few hobbies to get through the days, waiting and waiting and  _ waiting and waiting and WAI _ \- okay, maybe he should just skip ahead…

* * *

When Lance woke up to the scattered sun rays filtering past the curtains, he felt no desire to face another day in his tower. Instead, pure frustration slowly developed into droplets pricking at his eyes. It was mornings like these that made the prince wish he was Snow White or Sleeping Beauty, isolated from the world, but able to sleep through all of the loneliness that came with being a cursed royal.

Of course, the night before was terrible, too. Symptoms of his enchantment had left Lance with aches in his muscles and his hands and his teeth and his  _ eyes _ that, this time, would clearly linger for hours on end.

It was Lance’s birthday. Well, not exactly, because at this point he couldn’t even remember if he was counting days of imprisonment or days cursed, but the day felt significant enough to matter and it wasn’t like he had someone to come correct him. Anyway it  _ could’ve _ been his birthday for all he knew and he had to spend it tired, sore, and  _ all alone _ . He was sick of being alone, sick of it! He was sick of claustrophobic walls and one, never changing, view from one window. He was sick of growing up without his mom’s hugs or his siblings’ laughs, real familital bonds replaced with inky words in envelopes, half of which would get their carrier pigeons eaten by Allura before they could get anywhere near him! The anger kept building, and before Lance knew it, the urge to cry turned into a need to lash out at the nearest thing and rip it to shreds.

Suddenly, there was a book in his hands, a hefty one, filled to the brim with false promises of rescue. Every page was devoted to princes and princesses all like Lance, except they were all off living happily ever after. He was done looking at poetry and prose about all his predecessors, royals actually able to be freed from their miserable existences. Lance flipped through the chapters, each page turn more feverish than the last, until, finally, the sound of paper tearing away from spine filled the air. A clear slash had appeared in place of an illustration of some evil creature.

Oops, did he do that? Oh well, might as well cut out the villains, the vamping, the perils and the pitfalls, the monsters, the curses, and  _ every second of the waiting _ . The pages used to be thick, but years of perusing had severely weakened their resolve; nevertheless, when whipped about with enough energy, they could still provide plenty of discomfort by lightly slicing at the palms and fingers of the book’s owner. Lance was ready to continue with his literary defilement when another picture caught his eye. 

It was one of the classic princesses, standing in all her beautiful glory, with her knight beside her on one knee and presenting a rose. Clearly depicting their happy ending, the image filled Lance with the deepest of longings and, far within himself, a small shard of hope pulsed out a previously quieted reminder for the prince.

That witch may have cursed him, but she had done the same to all three of his siblings. If anything, his enchantment’s higher difficulty should mean that his hero would be even stronger and more skilled than any of his in-laws. Lance’s turn was coming. It had to be (even if he was a bit of a vandal now).

These thoughts assisted the prince in slowing his rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing until he felt stable enough to step away from his new pile of shredded parchment and approach the window. In an act to rid himself of any remnants of his breakdown, Lance began to softly sing a tune under his breath:

_ “And I know he’ll appear _

_ ‘Cause there are rules and there are strictures. _

_ I believe the story books I read by candlelight. _

_ My white knight, and his steed, _

_ Will look just like these pictures. _

_ It won’t be long now, I guarantee…” _

Lance pulled back the curtains, taking in the sun rising higher past the distant mountains. Picking up a nearby piece of charcoal, he added another small stroke to the miniscule tallies coating the wall near the windowsill.

“Day number 8,423.” Lance sighed, before sending one last determined look at the horizon.

“I know it’s  _ today _ .”


	2. You’re Bundled Up Now, Wait ‘til You Get Older

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith dreamed about his father in the summertime, when the climate surrounding his shack became hot and dry like the dust desert he was born in.
> 
> He only dreamt of Mom when things were about to go terribly wrong.

Keith dreamed about his father in the summertime, when the climate surrounding his shack became hot and dry like the dust desert he was born in. 

Jack Kogane had provided his son a childhood consisting of skies filled with the purest stars, rare thunderstorms paired with streaks of lightning, and caves covered in the carvings of the Ancients. The desert was probably the best place for little Keith Kogane to spend his earliest years. Life in the environment was consistent enough to act as a calming staple for the erratic child, yet spontaneous enough to provide excitement. But the best benefit for them for them living out there was always the lack of many other people. His father taught him survival skills and constellation reading, and attempted to do the same with social cues. The key word there being ‘attempted.’

Keith couldn’t blame his dad for that. He knew the man tried, but Keith had a quick temper, which would often come out through traits that were all his mom: glowing eyes and fanged teeth come through snarled lips.

The pair had really lucked out that no humans had ever been present during these escalated tail-ends of Keith’s tantrums. The desert’s scattered population was well aware of Jack’s supportive opinion of magical species, his work as a self-employed folklorist/archivist/astronomer making him welcome to interactions with the ‘bizarre,’ but that doesn’t mean they would be happy to learn the mother of his child was a Galra of all things.

Keith didn’t remember much about her, just memory fragments of her voice, her eyes, her cheeks covering in markings, and whatever details he could glean from his dad. She was a lone Galra, descended from those who came in the great war 10,000 years ago, back during the Old Regime of Altea. The Galra remaining in this realm, over time, had adapted to society’s animosity towards them, hiding in the shadows, never in too large of a group. After the ancient Galra warlord Zarkon abandoned half of his own species to return to the homeland Daibazaal when humans took back Altea, they adopted a strict belief of survival of the fittest.

Jack’s knowledge and tolerance for fairy tale creatures meant that many humans paid him to act as a mediator to any wandering souls that came by, so as to hopefully save their stockpiles of pitchforks and torches. It was following one of these leads one night that found Jack with a knife at his throat and an introduction with an injured female Galra and the future love of his life. Then time ran out for them and the nomadic spirit left Jack and their toddler son, telling the man to give Keith her knife when he got older - saying someday he might need it.

Keith blamed her for the itch, the constant buzzing in the back of his mind and under his skin saying he’s spent too long in one place, acting up his fight or flight, making him a little less trusting and a little more short-fused every day.

This must be why Keith only dreamt of Mom when things were about to go terribly wrong.

When he was seven, Keith found himself in a hazy version of their desert, the sunset a fiery mix of reds, yellows, and oranges. His mother was standing right in front of him, tall stature, broad shoulders, braid of her deep purple hair falling down her back and all. Keith tried to call out to her, but she wouldn’t turn around, and then she started to walk away again. With every step, Keith curled in on himself a little more, frustrated that his feet wouldn’t chase after her, that his voice couldn’t command her to stay with him. All the while, sunset began to glow brighter, too bright, and the air kept getting hotter and stiffer until Keith felt like he was  _ burning- _

_ “Keith!” _

Until he was pulled out of his sleep by his father, being thrown over a shoulder and carried out of the bedroom. When Keith sucked in a shaky breath, smoke filled his lungs and he hacked. Oh, their house was on fire. That explained a lot.

Keith would find out later that some pyromancer had gone rogue in the area and his father had gone out in the middle of the night to try calm them down before any more damage could be done. But no one had realized that there had been a second fire-wielder, not until Jack looked in the distance to see their side of town engulfed in flames. Keith learns all of this after the fires have gone out, after their home became a pile of rubble and ash, after his dad had tossed him out of the way of some crumbling support beams.

After Jack Kogane died, leaving his son alone in a cold, cold world.

Keith dreamed about his mom the night before he’d be booted from the Javeenon orphanage he was sent to. The dream had put the child on edge, so when he found one of the other orphans rifling through what few belongings Keith had left, he did exactly what his dad had tried so hard to avoid. It turned out tackling another kid was unwanted behavior, and coming at them with claws and fangs at the ready really crossed a line. 

One look at the aces around him and Keith knew he was done for, so the itch under his skin turned into a burning flash of fear - and then he  _ ran _ . He snatched back his bag from the thief and bolted out the back door of the orphanage and kept running until the alarms in his head turned back into a hum.

Moving from town to town quickly became the new normal for Keith. The occasional townsperson would be willing to pass on some food or change in exchange for helping with odd jobs, but this plan would only last for a few years. As Keith got older, he began to take more after his mother without needing to lash out in defense.

He noticed the building, permanent changes when his vision dramatically improved in the darkness, no longer requiring a torch thanks to glowing yellow sclera, making his deep violet eyes all the more prominent. Skin purpled, hair thickened and became shaggier, small fangs protruded for good. Finally, his ears were no longer rounded, instead becoming pointed and covered with a light fuzz.

By the time Keith reached young adulthood, one of the only indicators of his hybrid heritage was his stature, average by man’s standards, but far shorter than that of a full-grown male Galra. Entering towns at all was no longer a viable option, leaving him to rely on the skills his father had ingrained in him since he could walk.

Mankind abandoned Keith when they decided he wasn’t human enough to live among them. The Galra abandoned him when his mother walked away, choosing her lone travels over keeping their family together. So, he decided that his life was better, less complicated, all alone.

Off on the edge of the Javeeno region, there was a collection of crumbling, rocky hills and cliffs marking an end to its grassy plains and sparse forests.

It was here Keith found a little patch of land far, far away from the world that despised him. Fated to be lonely, destined to be hated, this is where Keith set down his stake in life, thanks to the biased ramblings of some 10,000 year-old storybooks.

The humans could go get lost in a wormhole, for all he cared.

* * *

There was once a little shack built in between the lush, green terrain of Javeeno and the scorching Terran Desert. The structure was already several years old, evident from the faded paint on the signs enclosing the area.

_ GO AWAY. GALRA AHEAD. _

The signs were truthful and all children in the nearby villages grew up on the fact that only hunters and adventurers strong enough to put up a fight should ever head in that direction. It was safer for them far away from the cliffs.

The children learned that it was a big, bright, beautiful world, but not here.

Never here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Javeeno" is not a made-up name, it's actually the system where Arus and the Balmera are located in the show, who knew?  
> This update was supposed to be done by Saturday, but then I watched S7E1, and all coherent thought left me for a few days because SHIRO. So this chapter is a little shorter than I wanted because some of it will be used elsewhere because of this delay.  
> I don't really have an update schedule so I'm still happy to have something posted now.  
> Let me know what you guys think! And again you can find me and my buddy (beta reader?) over on our tumblrs loveallthatjazz and farklelucas, respectfully.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, welcome to my fic that I intended as a joke until I actually began to fall for the idea! Feel free to come talk VLD with me over on my tumblr under the same name as here. Also, a big thanks to my friend for accidentally getting this idea in my head at 1am one night and continuing to support me all the while. You can find her at imdeansgirl (AO3) and farklelucas (tumblr).  
> Please kudos/comment/subscribe and please let me know your thoughts as this is the first fic I've ever posted on here and I'd love to hear from you!


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